“Help me out, will you, pal? I don’t want to dream tonight.”
So his mouth took hers again, gently, while his hands stroked her back. And murmured to her as those hands slid under the nightshirt she’d tossed on.
She heard the cat give a kind of annoyed grunt before he rolled away.
“If you dream, dream of me. Dream of us. Dream of this,” he said, and took her mouth again. Again tender, so tender and so warm.
She laid a hand on his cheek. His hands, his lips didn’t just stir desire, but beat in her heart as well. Worry began to fade in wonder. That he was hers, that he wanted to be hers.
She answered tenderness with tenderness, understanding, as she never had before him, that when love surrounded desire, it meant everything.
With him, she had everything.
He felt the tension fade away as she softened against him. His fierce cop let go for him, let the day, the night, all that came before this moment go.
He took his time, hands gliding rather than demanding so she could drift, just drift before the rise.
And he, lost in her, could drift with her.
She allowed herself to surrender, needed to surrender, could surrender because she knew he would cherish.
And with surrender, she found peace. With peace, she found pleasure. All tangled together in a slow, quiet blooming.
He soothed and seduced, tending to her body, inch by inch. Drawing out her emotions to join with his, patiently, so patiently layering sensations that she slid to peak, slid over like water poured from a cup.
Then he was with her, inside her, bodies joined in a slow, easy rhythm that spun out time. So slow, slow and sweet, they climbed to peak and spilled over together.
She didn’t dream.
And when she woke, felt incredibly grateful for that single, simple fact. More gratitude filled her when she saw Roarke in his perfect dark suit, with his perfectly knotted tie, in the sitting area with the cat across his lap and the stock figures scrolling by on the muted screen.
The familiarity of it, the quiet routine of it kept worry at bay another few minutes. It wouldn’t be an easy day, she knew. She had to prepare for long, for hard, but to have this to start that long, hard day?
A gift.
“You slept well,” he said without looking over.
“I haven’t moved a muscle. How do you know I’m awake?”
“I can hear your brain working.”
“You know that’s not possible.”
“And yet.” Now he looked over, smiled that smile of his. “And as yourbrain’s working, I’ll suggest you wear something formidable today. Black if you must, but with punch.”
“My brain can’t worry about clothes before coffee.”
She rolled out of bed and went straight for coffee. Drinking that first life-saving sip, she studied him.
“You helped me out last night.”
“I reaped considerable benefits.”
“Damn right, but. I’m going to give you a little payback anyway. You pick out the formidable. I expect to deal with the obscenely rich. You qualify there, too. Just add intimidating to formidable.”
“First a barbecue and now this.” His clever fingers scratched at the cat as he studied her. “Where is my wife?”
“She’s right here, so don’t get used to it, Ace.”
